I crouch and touch the side. The earth clings to my hand like it will squeeze through my skin. “I don’t know.” I look at her, hoping to see her pulling the string out of her pocket again. “Are you going to pull me back out?”
She laughs. “No. The string would break when you hit the other side.”
“Other side?”
“The living world.”
I look at the hole again, narrow and deep and filled with the smell of mud. “This is the way back to Percy?”
“The first of many small steps.” Baby puts her hand on my arm. “You’ll have to use your voice, Delaney. You won’t have any other magic ‘til you get your bones back.”
“I still see—”
“Yes.” She nods. “But you only see what is and you can’t do nothing to change it. Not like this. Not ‘til you have your bones again.”
“Then how can I save Percy?”
She shrugs. “Don’t know.”
“But it starts down there?”
Baby rubs her nose and yawns. “Yes. I think so.”
I look at her, wondering if I need to say goodbye. I’ve already left one sister behind. Goodbye is not what needs to be said, even if I never return to this place. I touch her cheek with my clean hand. “If I’ve hurt you, Baby, I’m sorry.”
She tilts her head, blue eyes dark under the white light of the moon. “Are you sure, Delaney?”
I want to blurt out yes. How could I be anything other than sorry? But I know that I have gotten in the habit of saying those words. Sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.
My gut squishes again, the way it did outside the house all swaddled in honeysuckle. Cold and sick feeling. I know, even if I can’t remember it, that somewhere I did something terrible to Baby and Addie. “Yes, Baby. I’m sorry.”
She touches her fingers to the tears sliding down my cheeks. “Good. Remember that, Delaney.” A shift of her weight, slight though it is, knocks me off-balance, and I tumble head first into the hole.
The dirt presses in on me as I fall, my scream lost in the darkness. I try to suck in a breath, tasting dust and salt and the queer buzz of physical magic. The pressure against my skin grows ‘til I am not certain if I can bear it any longer. I slither up out of the ground into the middle of a salt ring, still screaming.
Immediately, the weight is gone, and I gulp a breath or two and tuck my hair behind my ears. The man standing on the other side of the salt and candles blinks.
I recognize him, with his dark skin and fine braids falling across his shoulders. At least what I’ve been seeing hasn’t led me wrong yet.
“Hello, Franklin.” I smooth the front of my dress, miraculously clean despite having just fallen down a muddy hole between the afterlife and the realm of the living.
“Who the hell are you?” He reaches for the candle on the table beside him, ready to snuff it, and with it, the summons of salt and ash.
“Delaney Green.” Uncertain what to do with my hands, I stick them in my sweater pockets. “Were you expecting someone else?”
“Yes.” He lifts one of the remaining photos off the table. “I was expecting her.”
“I don’t think she’s coming.”
“That seems obvious. But that doesn’t explain how you are here instead. The summons was specific.”
I laugh, lift a hand apologetically. “Percy took those photos. I mean, not those actual photos, but the ones those are copies of.”
Franklin pauses, and his eyes get narrow and hard. “You are connected to Percival Cox.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you are here instead of her.”
“You’ve met Percy? Shaken his hand?”
“Yes. But—”
“What did you feel?”
He tosses the photo to one side, crosses his arms on his chest. “I felt magic. He is a Sensitive.”
“Is he?” I edge closer to the salt ring and drag my fingers across the barrier. It ripples like the surface of a pond, feels a bit like one too—cool and liquid. “You know, there is no cure for a man born a Power. There is only draining away his magic or controlling it with drugs or making him forget that he has it.”
Franklin is incapable of growing pale, but stillness settles on him. “Cox is a Power?”
“Of a terrible sort. Unintentional and, therefore, nearly uncontrollable.”
He rubs his forehead, but it makes sense. The uneasiness that’s been tickling away at his insides ever since he first shook Percy’s hand takes a specific shape. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I have seen what will happen if he is left unchecked. And no one wants that.” I remember Daddy, making plans beneath the split tree. “Well, almost no one. And I need your help if I am to keep him from hurting folks.”
“What makes you think I can’t stop him? Now that you’ve warned me?”
I look at him solemnly. “There is no doubt you are skilled with this physical magic, Mr. Jones. But you cannot stop Percy. Not by yourself.”
Franklin edges forward. “And you can?”
“Not by myself. Not this time.”
His eyebrows go up, then down ‘til his dark brown eyes are nearly hidden away. He lays his hands against the milky fog of the salt ring’s barrier. “Who are you, shade?” And he ain’t asking for my name again.
The symbols around the star and the one under my feet flare, and the light pushes through me, stripping away the faded cotton dress and lumpy sweater, the limp fall of my hair and scarred skin. What is underneath is not flesh and blood and bone and guts. Nor am I made of anything whimsical like butterflies or spider-web or even flames.
I hold my hands up, and they are still my hands. Look down and see my breasts and belly are still my own. But I burn.
“Ah.” It is not like The Salesman. Not ash and bone crudely formed to resemble something human. This is something… someone human transformed.
Franklin grimaces, trying to hold his fear inside. “What do you want from me, Power?”
“Help,” I say. “I will need a body.”
“I will not kill for you. No matter what evil you might propose to stop.”
“I am not asking you to kill someone. I am asking you to find me a body. One of those girls who have been rendered soulless maybe.”
“Why? Why not stay like… this?” He gestures to my transformed self.
I bite my lip to keep my temper in check, remembering Baby’s warning. “You must use your voice, Delaney.”
The candle on the table is burning down. As it flickers, so do I, passing back into the suffocating crush of dirt-that-is-not-dirt before returning to the salt circle. “Listen carefully, Mr. Jones. Percy is beginning to remember that he has magic, and if he is threatened, he will use it. Even if he doesn’t mean to. And it will make him stronger. He will use it again, not realizing the fullness of what he does because those he touches with it will be murderers and rapists. At least at first. And his magic will grow and grow until it eats the world.”
The candle flickers again, and when I return, I’m gasping for breath. “I need a body so that you may make him forget again. Not with drugs or electricity, but with magic. Make him forget and bind the forgetting into something that he will never try to destroy.”
“You.”
I nod. “Yes, Mr. Jones.”
“And why will he not destroy you? Even if I can find you another… body, you will not look like yourself.”
“He will know it is me. And he will love me all the same.”
Franklin shakes his head. “Maybe. But even if I want to do this, even if I believe what you say, how am I supposed to call you back?”
“Take my hand.”
He hesitates. “Why?”
“So I can find you again.” Cautiously, he pushes his hand through the barrier of the salt ring, and I grasp it firm. “When you are ready for my help, spill a drop of blood and call my name. I will come to you.”
He pulls hi
s hand back, staring at it as though it might burst into flames at any second. “And if I do not want your help, Delaney Green?”
“Then face him on your own, Mr. Jones.”
The candle winks out, and I am caught in the dreadful crush of the passage between the world of the living and the afterlife. Left to scrape and claw my way back through the narrow shaft until I pop out into the woods where I left Baby.
I cough up silt and wipe the mud from my eyes, cold and dirty from head to toe.
Baby stirs, brushing away leaves that have drifted around her like a blanket. “Well?”
“Yes.” I wrap my arms across my chest, trying to warm up. Wondering that I can even be cold without proper flesh and bones. “The first step.”
“Good.” She looks at me, solemn. “Do you want to walk on?”
“In a little while.” I huddle down in the leaves. “But let me rest first.”
She hums, quiet, and curls up against my belly. The leaves on the ground move, skittering up over my legs and back like so many strange bugs and cover us in a dry, whispering blanket.
I grit my teeth, anticipating the urge to scratch, but the leaves are surprisingly soft and warm. I sigh, eyes fluttering closed as Baby hums. Maybe just for a little while.
11
The hospital room was cold, but Percy couldn't pull the blanket up himself—the padded cuffs on his wrists and ankles kept him from doing much of anything but staring at the ceiling.
He licked his lips. "Mom?" They'd put something in the IV dripping into his arm. It took a few tries before he could get his voice above a whisper. "Mom."
She turned away from the window. "Yes, Percy. Do you need some water?" She reached for the pitcher sitting on the table beside the bed.
He shook his head. "Cold."
"It is chilly in here." She went over to the closet and pulled open each of the drawers in the built in dresser. "Your Aunt Ethel told me they keep it cold in hospitals to keep the germs down. Ah." She pulled a blanket out of the bottom drawer. "Here we go."
Gently, she spread it over him. Her hands shook as she brushed against the leather straps holding his wrists secure, but she folded his fingers into her own just the same. "There. Is that better?"
He nodded, wished his tongue was not so squishy and hard to move so he could tell her the temperature was more to do with vagal response than germs.
The door opened and several men in white coats came in. Percy recognized one of them. Doctor Whitaker. Small and crackling with energy, he was the one who changed the bags on the IV and helped him eat dinner one sloppy bite at a time.
"How are you doing today, Mrs. Cox?"
Percy recognized him, too. Doctor Palmer. He had threatened to lock Mom up, too, if she didn't calm down and let them strap Percy to the bed.
Mom smoothed her hair, tucking a stray wisp behind her ear, and tried to smile. "Better, thank you."
"I'm glad to hear it," Dr. Palmer said. He flipped through the folder in his hands. “We’ve been considering how to approach further treatment, and I’m afraid there aren’t many options.”
“Treatment?” Her voice cracked, and she paused for a moment before continuing. “My son isn’t sick, Dr. Palmer.”
He looked at her, cool as a winter morning. “Your son killed a man.”
“A kidnapper. A murderer. If he hadn’t…” Her fingers clutched Percy’s hand so tight he whimpered.
“Yes. But this is magic, and there are other concerns. For the future.”
Mom shook her head. “I don’t understand. Percy is a good boy. Gentle. He would never hurt anyone.”
Palmer looked at the notes in the folder again. “But this isn’t the first time he’s killed something.”
She frowned. “He’s never—”
“Your neighbors, Jim and Caroline Wallace, filed a report that he had killed their dog.”
“Their dog attacked Percy. He still has scars on his arm from it. But it just…” She paused, lips going white. “Oh God.”
Dr. Whitaker cleared his throat. “There’s no way for you to have known. But it does raise concern about what might happen in the future. If he responds to another threat in the same way…”
Mom smoothed Percy’s hair across his forehead. “Of course.” She rubbed away tears with her sleeve. “Can you fix him?”
Dr. Palmer slapped the folder with the medical charts closed. “We’ve had some success in recent years with a combination treatment of Magiprex and electroshock therapy.”
Mom trembled. “Electroshock. Won’t that hurt him?”
“You will see changes in his behavior. But he will be sedated throughout the treatment, so there shouldn’t be much pain.” Dr. Palmer smiled as if they were talking about having a tooth pulled.
“And when it’s done, he’ll be better?” Her hands shook, and she tucked her arms across her chest. “No more magic?”
Dr. Palmer scratched his cheek, absentminded. “We haven’t found a cure for this sort of magic, but he won’t remember he has it. He will believe he is ordinary.” He waved a hand at the third man, who had so far remained silent. “Isn’t that right, Dr. Selnik?”
Dr. Selnik nodded. “A crude interpretation, but more or less accurate.” He held out a clipboard and a pen. “You will need to approve the treatment.”
Mom hesitated.
Dr. Selnik cleared his throat. “You must consider what is best for the boy’s well-being. If left untreated…” He glanced at Dr. Palmer.
Dr. Palmer stepped close and laid his hand on Mom’s elbow, a gesture that should have been comforting. “I have spoken with someone from Child Services already. They agree that this is in Percival’s best interest.” He drew himself up so she was forced to tip her head back to look at him. “If you are incapable of making this decision, the state will be forced to intervene and that could lead to… charges. Possible loss of custody.”
“Yes.” Mom nodded her head. “Of course. You are right.”
“Mom.” Percy shook his head. “Mom.”
“Hush, baby.” She pulled away from Dr. Palmer, leaning down to kiss Percy’s forehead and squeeze his hand. “We’re going to make everything okay.”
“Mom.”
But she wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Give me the forms.” She let go of his hand and took the pen to scratch her name, over and over on each page, each stroke loud in the sudden silence of the hospital room. “There.” She shoved the clipboard back at Dr. Selnik.
He flipped through the pages, checking to be certain none of them had been missed. “Good. We will see about transferring him to our treatment facility this afternoon.”
“I’ll be able to come visit him?”
“Of course.” Dr. Selnik smiled. “If you will excuse me, I’ll get the transportation orders started.”
Mom sat back down next to the bed as the doctors filed out. She took Percy’s hand again and twitched her mouth into something like a smile, but her eyes were afraid. “It’s okay, Percy. Everything is going to be okay. The doctors are going to take you away for a while, but then you’ll be all better. I promise.”
12
Percy twitches awake. Mom.
Martinez looks up from his laptop with a frown. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just dozed off. Sorry." Percy reaches for his coffee cup, drinks the last cold swallow with a grimace.
"It's getting pretty late." Martinez squints at the clock on his phone. "There's a couple cots down the hall if you want to try and catch a couple hours sleep."
"Yeah. Maybe." Percy stares at the photos spread out in front of him. MacKenzie did a pretty good job separating the shadow image from the others, better than a lot of security camera stills. But they still haven't gotten any hits from the missing persons’ database or DMV records.
In one of them, the angle is slightly different, not a full three-quarter view, but not straight on either. And there's something different about it, an angularity to the jaw that makes him frown.
"Where's
MacKenzie?"
"In the other conference room." Martinez sits up straighter. "Have you found something?"
"Maybe." He shoves his chair back and heads toward the conference room.
MacKenzie and Elliot are huddled over a different stack of files, but also surrounded by empty coffee cups and Styrofoam plates filled with pizza crusts.
"What's up, Cox?" MacKenzie looks up as he leans in the doorway.
"That search you're running. On the shadow image. Looking for female only?"
"Yeah. Why?"
He pushes the photo at her. "What if this is a male? See the jaw. And the hairline could be masculine."
"Maybe." She frowns. "Yeah. Okay. I'll run it again. See if we get anything." She pulls one of the laptops closer, typing in the new search with a rattle of keys. "It may take a while. Lot more to search."
"Thanks." His phone beeps, and he pulls it from his pocket and thumbs the alarm off. Time for his nighttime meds.
He's aware of MacKenzie and Elliot watching him, trying so hard to look casual he can almost hear the strain in their muscles.
"I'm going to go get some water. Stretch my legs for a minute."
"Sure," MacKenzie says. "Take your time."
Percy wanders down the hall in search of a water fountain. Most of the offices in this part of the building are empty of people, the lights in the hallway turned down to save energy. Only every other one is on.
His heart is back to its normal rhythm, but he still feels uneasy. He frowns, digging in his pocket for the pill bottle. Nightmares are something he's grown used to, but that one felt more real. More personal. Like a memory.
He washes the pill down with a couple swallows of water, then a couple more to get rid of the lingering taste of stale coffee. Wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. He hasn't dreamed about being a kid for years.
He has a few memories of the institution, but before that... Nothing. Except now he has a vague image of a hospital bed and three doctors who jitter and twitch and threaten. “We haven’t found a cure for this sort of magic, but he won’t remember he has it.”
Percy looks at the pill bottle, still clutched in one hand. Remembers the Magiprex he’s supposed to be taking with the anti-depressant. He pulls his phone off his belt and dials Connie’s office. It’s late, but she was helping Elliot run down files earlier.
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